Black Leaves
by xxAristotlexxx
Summary: On the Northern European server of the popular MMORPG Elder Tale, a trio of guild mates find themselves in the world they had been so immersed in. But life in the world is complicated... Filled with horrors that didn't look like much through a computer screen. The main question is: Who am I? Clancy or Orion?
1. Chapter 1 - Apocalypse

**Black Leaves**

**Chapter 1 - Apocalypse**

_'__Recklessness is the way of the young, and tolerance is the beauty of adulthood.'_

_- Nyanta, Log Horizon_

-0-0-0-0-0-

**Londinium- Safe Half**  
**Northern European Server**  
**Ulster Knight Sword Alliance/Londinium**  
**City/ No Monsters present**  
**No PvP**  
**Entry Restrictions/ None**  
**Exit Restrictions/ None**

"What's gonna happen to us?"

"We're screwed, man! Royally screwed!"

"What if we die? Do we stay dead?! What happens to us!?"

These were some of the few worried shouts which echoed across the ruined city, its buildings looking more suited to a modern setting than a world of swords and sorcery. But everyone recognized the moss covered buildings and the large tower in the distance, along with the houses of parliament... They were in London, but in the game it was known as 'Londinium'.

One of these ruined buildings had a gaping hole in its side, probably to help the setting appear more post-apocalyptic but it also served as the spawning point for a hooded, cloaked green figure with a bow strapped across his back and a pair of daggers hung across his front. Moss stretched along the walls and claimed it like a green plague but a few beams of light came in through the fissure, still providing illumination for the rooms on the upper floors.

The figure stood silent for a few minutes, but on the inside, his mind was racing.

_'Where am I? Is this the game? I was just sitting at my desk a few minutes ago, playing... Elder Tale.'_

_'I can't believe it... But this is my gear. My bow, my daggers, my cloak. How is this possible? I feel different... Christ, I can't think with the sun in my eyes like this.' _

A hand, clad in a glove that didn't quite reach his fingertips but made a valiant effort to, emerged from the cloak and hovered just in front of his eyes to cut off the sunlight. Before he could be startled at his apparent change of clothes , a black menu with green borders popped up in front of his eyes, with a list of options – apparently the in-game menu still existed.

_'Huh... Guess I could start with this.' _

So he did, lowering his hand and clicking on the most promising button.

Options.

And there it was, the logout button. So he could get out of this odd world before things got odder. The Ranger clicked the button labelled 'Logout' only to have a red light blink at him accompanied by a soft beep.

Plan A just went out the window.

_'Right... Looks like I'm stuck here. This is pretty disturbing… but now isn't the time. I need to meet up with-' _

His inner monologue was cut off by the sound of a telephone ringing, complete with a screen popping up in front of him and an image of a phone off its hook.

_Algar! _

He raised his hand and pressed it to his ear, similar to how he had watched his own avatar do when he had been playing the game through a monitor.

Doing so, he heard a very welcome voice, _"Yo! You there, Cap?" _

_"Algar, nice to hear your voice." _

_"You too, buddy, but now we need to link up and figure out what the hell is going on. Send me your location and I'll meet up with you, bud." _

The figure paused, raising his right hand and dragging his minimap from the edge of his vision, bringing it to the centre. The map showed him the imminent area and all he saw was rows upon rows of streets, all with their own separate names.

_"King's street. Building with a massive hole in the side. Get here soon." _

_"Roger." _

Now all he had to do was wait. And think about what was going on, the current state of things, how he'd get back home, and how he'd survive in the meanwhile. Really, he had quite a lot to do other than wait.

Clancy Ebonleaf was the Elven leader of the Black Leaves guild, comprised of a group of friends who decided to make a name for themselves in their server's raiding scene. After a year or two, they became infamous as the only major role-playing guild that had the gear and numbers for raid dungeons, much to the chagrin of the other large raid guilds. They weren't restrictive in recruitment in any way, but they still somehow managed to get more Elven members then they did any of the other races. Algar, the max-level Bard, was one of the exceptions, being of the Wolf Fang race.

Maybe they should have been more careful in planning, or maybe they should have just logged on the day _after_ the expansion was released, but in their haste to get an early head-start on the other top guilds, now found themselves in what looked and felt like a whole new world. Some of their other guild mates had thought the same at the time, but looking down his friends list, he wasn't feeling confident about that guess.

It was just the two of them out of every- Wait.

_Neria_

The Druid? She hardly ever spoke to him but was a natural at the druid class for when they went out adventuring and was perhaps one of the most valuable healers they ever had the pleasure of meeting (and recruiting). She wasn't an Elf, being one of the other exceptions in the guild as one of the rarest races in the game - The Race of Ritual.

Due to their ridiculously low health, they were one of the least popular races among players. Their saving grace came from their abnormally high magical stats, but few casters were willing to sacrifice that much survivability for relatively low gain. Clancy had never taken much interest in the race since he had had known what he would be from the start, but that didn't stop him from admiring the odd tattoos and runes spread across her body whenever he saw her. Well, her avatar's body. There was something to be said for taking an interest in pixels, but maybe now...

He shook his head to clear those kinds of thoughts from his mind. '_Here I am, alone in what looks like a whole new world, and the first thing I think about is a girl._' He allowed himself a rueful smile and hit the button to call her.

After a short ringtone, he heard the sound of shuddering breaths and some panicked shouts in the background. Was she crying? _"Neria. Are you there?"_

_"Ranger-Captain! Where are you?!" _

She sounded worried, panicky, even. Heh, just like a healer to grow attached to the people she had been looking after - or maybe it was just the fact they were all stuck here in a strange place that looked exactly like a game they had been playing. He couldn't blame her for breaking down like that; he felt oddly detached right now, like the reality of it all hadn't sunk in yet.

_"King's Street. I'm in the building with the massive hole in it."_

_"On my way!"_

Well, at least now they would have a healer to survive in battles, even though he took it upon himself to make a single rule for being... well, himself. _'If I get hit in a battle, something has already gone wrong.' _

With the call ended, Clancy was left alone in the silent, sun-streaked room. Realizing that he still felt calm, the newly incarnated Elf decided to take advantage of his composure and raised his arm to call out the menu again. He looked through his Skills menu to find that everything was where it should be, along with his status and inventory screens. Briefly, he wondered if he'd have to dress himself using the menu – that'd certainly be convenient.

He paused at that thought. Once more, he considered the situation – here in what looked, felt, and even _smelled _like the real world. He rubbed his fingers along his leather bracers, noting that the slightly rough texture actually felt like authentic animal skin, complete with the telltale scent of cured leather. He considered the possibility that he was dreaming, but dismissed it after pinching himself and feeling the physical sting. This obviously wasn't just a game anymore, even though some odd things like his HP/MP bar and menu still existed, he felt like he could be just standing outside on a nice summer afternoon at home.

Speaking of home, with the unresponsive logout button, he was left without an easy way back. Maybe he could try to find a GM, if they still existed, to forcibly log him out and send him home. Or maybe he just had to die and he'd wake up in his room, like in some cliché movie.

Once more, he was surprised at his nonchalance. He had just considered killing himself to see what would happen. He guessed that he was taking the situation better than most would – maybe being the leader of a role-playing guild helped him to adapt to new situations? Was he getting too into his character? Given how he'd kept his cool so far, was that really a bad thing?

Indeed, never before in his life had he felt so _strong_. The Elven body of Clancy Ebonleaf held a deep strength and agility that he'd never had in reality. He felt like he could do a hundred push-ups and not even get tired. In retrospect, he was glad that he'd modelled his in-game avatar roughly after his real body. Granted, he was a bit taller and obviously much stronger, but those didn't seem to affect him except for some minor disorientation at first. Overall, he felt _good_.

The sound of boots crunching against pebbles brought him back to reality. The Ranger-captain turned his head slightly and spotted a man wearing the same cloak and hood that he had, but with bushier hair and a pair of canine ears poking out. The hood was pulled back, but even when it was up, it couldn't cover his head due to the competition with his wild hair. Despite that, the man never seemed to be bothered by it at all, even when it did seem to get in the way.

Long, black hair swept down to his upper chest and pooled in his hood whilst a pair of soothing brown eyes met the green eyes of the Captain. "Nice to see ya, Cap. Wish it were under better circumstances though."

Idly, Clancy noticed that the other man seemed a bit stressed. It looked like he was trying to be calm, his face was schooled into a confident expression but his fists were clenched and even through the nondescript brown leather armor he wore, Clancy could tell that his muscles were tensed. The Elven man wondered what he looked like in turn.

He already knew who it was, but Clancy double checked the nametag that appeared when he focused on the larger man anyway:

**Algar**  
**Race/Wolf Fang**  
**Bard, Lv. 90**  
**Black Leaves**

Clancy just nodded in response, still staring out at the city of Londinium and spying a few flickers of light as people made torches or cast spells. After a few more moments of crunching pebbles, he felt, rather than saw, the tall wolf fang standing next to him, easily on par with his height, complete with a slightly worried look on his face. "So, you know what the fuck is going on?"

Silence was the answer to that question, Algar just chuckling lightly before drawing an elaborate halberd with strange runes on the pole and a jagged metal axe head from the holder on his back and giving it a few test swings in front of him. Clancy recalled the dungeon in which that weapon had dropped, as soon as he saw it, Algar had immediately claimed it, daring anyone else to try and take it. Thankfully, he was the only halberd user in the group at the time, so no argument broke out.

"Anyone else coming?"

"Neria."

"The Druid lass? She'll be useful to have around," All he did was nod, but that seemed good enough for the Bard who just went back to testing his weapon, swinging and thrusting it about experimentally before he abruptly stopped. "How're we meant to use abilities? Surely it'll be too troublesome to open up the ability menu in mid combat, click on the skill and all that... Maybe there's a trick to it?"

Nothing was certain right now, the only answer for that question being more and more questions on top of it. Still, it was a logical query, how would they do things now? As a long range fighter, he could still quite easily stay at range and shoot enemies from afar, but it'd take so much longer to kill them without using skills.

"So what's your plan for the guild?" Another serious question came from the Wolf Fang's mouth that sent Clancy's mind off on a tangent. What _would_ he do? What would _they_ do? With just the three of them, the smartest thing to do would have been to go out and recruit, but right now it was smarter to link up and discuss their next course of action, seeing as he doubted the rest of the players in Londinium would be amenable to blatant guild recruitment right now.

"We wait."

"Always the man of few words, 'ey cap?"

Algar chuckled as an evil glare was sent his way and silence soon reclaimed them. As they waited, they heard the shouts of alarm and cries of panic rising from the distant city below. Normal people might have felt pity for the Adventurers down there or even tried to help them, but Algar knew better than to expect that of the Captain. He'd learned the hard way what the Cap would do in a situation that required something more than frenzied panicking. It was better to take their mind off the current situation or try and figure out a way to survive for themselves.

It took a few more minutes for Neria to arrive. When she did, they were alerted by the sound of fast footsteps on the pebbles causing the crunch to practically echo through the desolate building. This time, Clancy did turn around, meeting the azure blue eyes of Neria with his own emerald green; spotting the tear tracks indicative of the panic that so pervaded the city. He was right – she had been crying.

The Druid was wearing an armour set that looked more fitting of a real life shaman, with a mixture of bird feathers and animal hides scattered across her body. One shoulder was covered by multicoloured feathers but the other was bare, the only visible flesh on her body aside from her face and hands. The feathers were colored a mismatch of tan, brown and black, clearly from different species of bird with chief among them being raven feathers. She held a gnarled wooden staff with a luminescent green crystal at the tip; several shades of dark-colored feathers were tied to the haft, adding to her feral spellcaster theme. Seeing the two familiar faces, she dropped her staff and brought her hands to her face, crying out, "Captain! Algar!"

More out of habit than anything else, Clancy checked the nametag that popped up when she entered the building:

**Neria**  
**Race/Ritual**  
**Druid, Lv. 90**  
**Black Leaves**

And that was all it took for the girl to collapse to the ground, only stopped by the warm embrace of Algar who managed to catch her. Clancy didn't move, only staring at the girl as she wept into the arms of the Bard before he turned back around to stare out at the city.

"I... I..."

"Shh, shh... Calm down lass..." Algar soothed the girl, moving a loose strand of that wild brown hair of her eyes and giving her a small wolfish grin. Neria's avatar was about the size of your average teenage girl, making her the smallest of the three but by no means making her small out of all the people in the guild. She was in fact, quite tall by teenage standards but still had some time to go. The tattoos on the sides of her face marked her as one of the Race of Ritual and made any would-be assailants target her ahead of the others but they always regretted it in the end... Nobody ever got away with that attitude when Algar and the rest of the guild were around.

"Calm down... Yeah... Calm..." Neria mumbled, fiddling with her hands for a few moments before looking up at Clancy and seeing something that was familiar and comforting in a weird way but it still sent a warm vibe through her body.

**Clancy Ebonleaf**  
**Race/Elf**  
**Assassin, Lv. 90  
Black Leaves – Guild Master**

"Sorry... Sorry about that, Captain... I just... Just..." Her bottom lip was trembling again as Algar tightened his grip on the girl, pulling her in for a closer hug whilst quietly shushing her.

"Don't worry lass, the Cap understands that not everyone is a heartless bastard like him," A small smile appeared on Neria's face and Algar broke out in one of his own to match. "There ya go! Good as new. Now, the Cap has a plan since he always does. Right, Cap?"

The two became silent as Neria clawed her way out of Algar's embrace. She remained on the floor with her eyes glistening slightly as she gazed up at Clancy's back. His elven ears made his hood widen on each side of his face, making it look like someone had stuck a probe through his head. Apparently it wasn't uncomfortable in the slightest, or so he had told her.

The Bard stood up the moment Neria was free of him, turning to face the back of their captain with a small smirk playing across his lips. For his part, Clancy was deep in thought, trying to figure out a way to appease their worries.

_'Will they accept this plan? Will they like it? Probably not, unfortunately. But it'll answer a few questions about the current state of things whilst also keeping the image of a strong Ranger. I can't afford to fall apart, especially now and not in front of them.' _

"How much gold did you two have in the bank before... this?" Each word was calculated and seemed to have some implied meaning. Neria and Algar glanced at one another before looking back at Clancy.

"I had one hundred thousand gold... Had to play the trade for a few days after that successful week of raiding but what else was there to do?"

"I have... Last I checked - Seventy thousand, not including items and ingredients I have stored away." The Druid looked thoughtful for a few moments, lifting a hand to support her head as she thought. Her messy brown hair seemed to frame her face perfectly in that moment.

"What's your plan, skipper?"

"Hmph. We're moving to the guild building - Store all your goods that you aren't going to use there," Clancy paused, whipping around and causing his cloak to spin wildly, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process. But then a thought crossed the Ranger's mind and he couldn't resist it... maybe it would work? Bringing up his inventory screen, he scrolled down for a few moments whilst the other two looked on in confusion. To them, it just looked like he was flicking at mid-air but Neria let out a soft gasp when a wooden flute appeared out of nowhere and landed in the Ranger's waiting palm.

'_A Flute of Hippogryph Summoning!'_

"So those still work, aye?" Algar started to go through the same motions, albeit faster since he wanted to see for himself. Sure enough, a few moments later, a similar flute landed in his open hand and then Neria followed suit with her own. They, along with the rest of the guild, had earned these as a reward for a rather difficult raid quest some time ago. Apparently, it was a sign of a powerful group, as only the top guilds on the server had them, making them one of the elite few.

Now the two watched their leader for the next thing to do, only to see him slot the flute into his belt before seemingly disappearing in a green blur as he strode in between them. Algar and Neria exchanged a confused glance before following Clancy down the many floors of the building and out through the main entrance and then into the streets.

The road was quiet, but the further they went, the louder the distant sound of other Adventurers met their ears. It took them only fifteen minutes to reach the ruined Houses of Parliament. In-game, the palace was known as the 'Guild Building' since any player-formed guild could buy a Guild Hall here and Adventurers could store their items in the bank attached. The three of them walked among other players clad in a myriad of different armors and weapons.

Clancy ignored all of them, resolutely striding past many a desperate soul. Algar just followed suit, trying to ignore them similar to Clancy but only succeeding to a point. Neria was torn between wanting to help the other people and following the other two. She was, in fact, so torn that Algar had to lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry lass, the Cap may be a dark, soulless bastard, but you know he's got his heart in the right place."

So she sighed, since that was all she could do. After all, she didn't really have a way to help the other despairing Adventurers; she was the one being comforted not twenty minutes ago! She let Algar lead her to the Hall where they stored anything that was not absolutely necessary, along with Clancy's bow, much to the strange looks she gave him. Apparently, he felt that his main weapon wasn't something he was going to use right now – just what did he have planned? The three of them talked to one of the clerks who was strangely calm, given the situation, about their stored goods before departing just as quickly as they had come. They kept their flutes with them, tucked in secure places. For Algar, that was the top of his collar with some of his hair tied to keep it in place. For Neria, It was at her waist, securely tucked within her belt.

But that wasn't the end of his plan, as Clancy led the way back out of the building and made for the main avenue. They knew that this road would lead to the first zone 'outside' of Londinium where you could fight monsters. The three of them stood on the edge of the bridge that marked the border of the city, beyond which was the first monster zone. The city was separated in two, with the 'safe half' surrounded by a thick wall on three sides whilst a river guarded the fourth. In the real world, it was the river Thames, but here it was known as the 'River of Diligence'. Only the creators knew why. The other side of the city was known as the 'Infested Half,' part of a low to mid-level event where players must cull the growing goblin army before they attack the safe half of the city. For Clancy and his max-level companions, it would be a good place to test out how actual combat felt.

A few other Adventurers looked at the three like they were insane whilst others just watched with a mixture of interest and irritation written clearly in their features.

"Are those idiots so eager to die?"

"So brave yet so foolish..."

"Who the hell are they?"

"Seems we gathered an audience, Cap." The Bard muttered, pulling out his polearm and swinging it experimentally before bringing it in front and holding it there for a few moments, looking ready to charge forward into battle.

Clancy, in his typical fashion, didn't reply. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the bridge ahead of them.

"We can do this... We're the Black Leaves, after all!" Neria declared, slamming the end of her stave against the ground to solidify the statement.

"Let's go."

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

**Londinium - Infested Half**  
**Northern European Server**  
**Ulster Knight Sword Alliance/Londinium**  
**Field/No monsters**  
**Demihumans present**  
**Entry restrictions/None**  
**Events/None currently**

It took several minutes to cross the bridge. As they walked, the cold air harassed them and the sun began to make its descent in the sky. Getting closer, a smell gathered and slowly intensified and it wasn't just because they were entering a zone with enemies. Once the three reached the far side of the bridge, they spotted something they had only seen through their monitors but now... It hit them like a ton of bricks.

A pair of carved stone heads fixed on a crude and bloody wooden spike, with crudely drawn expressions of agony on them. A warning to any who entered... The only warning before _they_ came.

Even now, the three of them stiffened at the sound of a crow cawing in the distance. Gathering their courage, they continued on deeper into the ruins. All three were on edge and the dull chill which had begun to settle did nothing to help them as the trio made their way down the first street. Whilst in the 'safe' area of Londinium there was simply moss everywhere, here things were different. Dilapidated buildings crushed by boulders filed along either side of the thoroughfare and loose pieces of stone were strewn across the streets. Perhaps most eerily, small, red eyes stared at them from within the alleyways between buildings.

Needless to say, the three were now on guard. Clancy unsheathed his twin elvish daggers whilst both Algar and Neria held their weapons aloft in readied positions.

_'The Goblins... They're amassing. We need to make our move _before_ they make theirs.' _

Clancy formulated a plan quickly. These were comparatively low leveled monsters; three max-level players should have no problem taking down a group of monsters from this side of Londinium. They didn't have a heavily-armored tank with them, so they would probably have to juggle aggro. Even then, dungeon mob or not, a level 25 had no chance against a level 90, much less three of them. Excepting Neria's racially weak constitution, their natural stat differences should prevent any major damage.

Somehow, that thought felt hollow to his mind.

As he pondered, a group of five goblins, all similarly armed with basic curved swords and slabs of metal for shields, stalked from a nearby alleyway towards the party. From behind the safety of a monitor, they merely looked gross, but seeing them in person carried a different feeling. With his excellent eyesight, Clancy could see the green, mottled, leather-like skin of their faces, contorted into bloodthirsty smiles or angered snarls. In person, they didn't look just gross, they looked _terrifying_.

He shook his head to gather his wits; Algar and Neria were looking at him, no doubt expecting some sort of plan from the ever-plotting Clancy Ebonleaf. Thankfully, this was something he was good at.

"Algar, use **Ballad of the Gullible Snail **to slow their movement speed. None of us have the durability of a tank, and since you have a weapon with long reach, you can kite the group around while we deal damage."

"Aye, Cap. Count on me." The Bard smirked, raising his weapon and opening his skill menu, ready for the advancing group.

"Neria, we'll need you to help take them down as well. Use one of your Servant Summons and basic attack spells to keep up your MP. You've been pretty good in the past with managing HP recovery - you need to both keep up the damage and save your MP for emergency heals, got it?"

Somewhat stunned by how calm her leader was, Neria nodded despite her shaking hands. Healing people was something she liked doing and was good at, but that was when this was just a game... How was she supposed to use all those spells in the menu when the goblins were_ right there in front of her_? What if she messed up and someone got hurt? A gnawing feeling deep within her told her that this wouldn't be anything like the game was.

"What about you, Cap? Ain't gonna ditch us and run, right?" Algar grinned at the ranger - friendly banter before a battle was a staple of much of their roleplaying. Neither of them questioned whether this was an appropriate time to fall into old habits.

"Only when you turn tail and scream like a little girl, Algar," he drily replied. The other man guffawed loudly and Clancy continued, "I'll set up **Poison Fog** in the center of the road, you'll have to kite them in and around it without going through yourself. Once it's dissipated, I'll move in with **Accel Fang** to keep up my damage. Let's do this."

They nodded at him, one eager and one nervous. Seeing that they were as ready as they'd ever be, Clancy charged forward, manipulating his menu to bring up his skills. The group of goblins saw the green hooded man rushing forward to meet them and began a disorganized charge to clash halfway. Their shrill cries of battle tore through the air, no doubt alerting their hidden brethren that intruders were afoot.

Just before he was in range of the first enemy, the Ranger-Captain released the ability and a smog of green poison gas spread outwards from his position, wavering in the air. Taking advantage of the goblins' sudden halt, he surged forward to get behind the group and yelled, "Algar, now!"

Still on the opposite side of the toxic cloud, the canine Bard quickly hit the button on his menu corresponding to the skill. Immediately, a great purple shockwave tore through the air, radiating outward from where he stood. Reaching the goblins, they shook slightly as if in pain and shifted their focus from the Assassin behind them to the Bard in front of them. Their steps were uneasy and slow, as if worried about losing balance and falling over.

Before Algar could charge in to attack, he saw a flash to his right and a great bear materialized in front of Neria, the spell **Servant Summon: Forest Bear**. When the bear roared mightily and charged, Algar grinned and charged alongside it, moving to meet the approaching goblins just outside of the poison cloud's range.

Clancy, seeing that the enemies were not focused on him after a few seconds, quickly scrolled down his skill menu and selected **Accel Fang**, a multi-hit Assassin physical skill that increases attack speed dependent on the number of times the target is struck. It was rather awkward to do, since after the skill was activated, he had to then move his hands and close the menu with the daggers still equipped - an action that took a few precious seconds. '_There has to be a better way to do this..._' Mentally preparing himself, Clancy moved to strike once his summoned fog evaporated.

Despite his frustration, he managed to score a double hit on an unarmored goblin's back, who whipped around to face him in a fury. He idly noted that his knives were dripping black blood, not a feature he explicitly remembered from the game. The goblin, realizing that the man behind it was more of a threat than the Bard in front of it, swung its curved sword toward the hooded elf's midsection.

For his part, Clancy saw it coming and stepped backwards, out of range for the strike. Thinking it safe out of the goblin's reach, he took a second to catch his breath, underestimating the monster's dexterity. After missing with the sword slash, the goblin stepped forward and bashed its crude shield into Clancy's gut, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

He wasn't ready for the pain that accompanied it. For some reason, he was still treating this as a game, like he wasn't actually there, fighting against a creature that meant to hurt him - meant to _kill_ him. Before they left for this half of Londinium, he thought he was prepared to fight, thought he was better than the other Adventurers in the city, too scared to venture forward. It was the entire reason he had them come out here, to get an edge over the rest by getting a taste of the real combat he knew they'd eventually be forced into, but he was wrong, he was far from prepared for actual combat. His body somehow knew the correct way to wield his daggers, the exact moment to dodge a strike before moving into counterattack, the right moment to parry a strike and riposte… but his mind was still the same eighteen year-old Orion Smith, who had never held a knife for anything but slicing food, never even been in a fight before this! His mind was spinning in a frantic whirl. Clancy doubled over, out of breath and out of time to dodge the goblin's follow-up, which neatly cleaved through his light leather armor and carved a ragged, bloody slash across his chest.

The ranger screamed out in pain as he stumbled back - compared to the shield bash, the feeling of cold metal slicing skin was unmatched in intensity and his mind crashed to a halt.

"Captain!" Neria, who until now had been focusing on the same target as Algar, cried out in alarm. Before she even realized what she was doing, she pointed her staff at Clancy's bloody form and called out, "**Heartbeat Healing**!"

She blushed in embarrassment for accidentally yelling the name of her spell, but she was shocked to see her weapon covered in a shimmering green light, followed by Clancy's body doing the same. Slowly, the party leader felt the pain ebb away in time with his heartbeat, the wound miraculously knitting shut.

Algar, who had had watched the exchange, came to a wide-eyed realization, "Cap! Get up and move! Call out your skill names!" Looking toward the nearest goblin, the Bard followed his own advice and howled "**Resonance Beat**!" slashing diagonally with his halberd's axe just after the demihuman began to glow softly. The goblin, unaware of what the skill meant, deflected the very obvious attack away, and upon impact, causing an intense vibration to spread from his shield to his arm to the rest of his body. Seeing his hypothesis proven true, Algar shifted his grip and thrust the polearm into the dazed monster's chest. The Bard's skill, which only truly takes effect when a second strike is landed, doubled the vibration in the goblin's form, causing it to screech in agony when a grotesque amount of black fluid erupted from its ears, eyes and mouth. Thoroughly disgusted, Algar withdrew his weapon, causing the goblin to fall to the ground, still writhing during its final choking breaths.

Acutely aware of the injured goblin that struck him about to finish him off, Clancy rolled to the side, lashed out with one dagger and yelled "**Sweeper**!" to use an Assassin skill excellent for finishing off weakened single targets. As his arm moved, the knife shone with a red light and he somehow _knew _where to strike to kill the goblin. Slightly changing the trajectory, he plunged the blade of his dagger into the side of the goblin's neck before brutally sweeping it across to the other end. A torrent of blackened blood surged out of the wound as the goblin gurgled out its death throes and fell to the ground, lifeless.

This was... This was _nothing_ like the game, Clancy realized. He could still feel the phantom pain from his chest wound and the sensation of slight resistance when he ripped out that goblin's throat hadn't left his hands. He found himself frozen, nailed to the spot as the reality of what just did struck him.

However, the same could not be said of the three remaining goblins. Seeing two of their number cut down threw the rest into a blood frenzy, apparently shaking off the earlier debuffs and, with an uncoordinated screech, causing them to charge directly for Neria, who had apparently stolen aggro with the emergency heal.

Her summoned bear intercepted the first with a great roar, biting out its throat even as the armed goblin struck it through the heart, ensuring a mutual kill. She panicked as the other two ran forward heedless; seeing the suddenly very _real_ and _bloodthirsty_ monsters getting nearer sent her thoughts spinning. Without preamble, she shrieked "**Hail Wind**!" buffeting the charging enemies with icy winds and razor hail, but not doing enough to stop their mad charge.

She stumbled backwards to the ground as the second one drew near enough to strike when, with a great bellowed "_Stay away from her_!" Algar body checked the demihuman, suddenly overcome with an animalistic urge to tear his foe to pieces for threatening his friend.

However, by then the last charging goblin was upon her, raising its jagged curved sword high above its head, poised for a deadly strike. With no way out of this, she cried out for the only hope she could see, "_Captain_!"

Time seemed to slow for the dazed Clancy, who was feeling like a puppet with cut strings. This didn't feel like a game anymore, this was far too _real_. He was shaken out of it when he heard Neria's desperate plea, '_She needs me. I need to save her_.' He tried to move his feet, but they wouldn't listen, like they had a mind of their own. If he didn't move now, he wouldn't be able to save his guildmate. He had to _move_. He had to _save her_.

But he was afraid. Even now, the illusory pain of his healed chest wound haunted him, and he unconsciously grasped at it. When he got hit, it felt like he was going to die - like his heart would burst and he would bleed out on the ground. If he ran forward to engage, he would be hit again, injured again, and he might _actually_ _die _this time.

Clancy was frozen, but the rest of the world didn't seem to care.

He watched in slow-motion as the goblin brought down its sword.

'_If I don't move, _Neria_ will die_.'

More than anything, _that_ thought chilled him to the bone. He was the leader of the Black Leaves guild, even if he was faking it most of the time. He didn't have the charisma that Algar had, only a strategic intelligence suited for a _game_, not for real life leadership. He had been feigning his earlier confidence, because that's what was expected of him. Orion Smith, the shy, withdrawn teenager, was not a leader. Everyone thought that Clancy Ebonleaf was a leader, so he became one. He had to be a leader because Clancy Ebonleaf _was_ a leader. Orion Smith was Clancy Ebonleaf, but Clancy Ebonleaf was _not_ Orion Smith.

He could not be both, and everyone else wanted him to be a leader, so he would just have to discard the frightened kid named Orion Smith and become the leader called Clancy Ebonleaf instead.

And Clancy Ebonleaf would be a poor leader if he let his guildmates die while he stood idly by.

So he ran towards her, dark green cloak whipping behind him. With a yell borne of the anguish and despair in his soul, feeling as if he was discarding an important part of him to survive – to ensure his friends survived - he charged toward the goblin with reckless abandon, whose sword was plunging downwards.

His lungs burned as he sprinted as fast as his legs would take him; the pit in his stomach deepened - he wouldn't make it to her in time. Orion Smith was weak, and his hesitation would cost the life of his precious guildmate.

With a triumphant cackle, the goblin brought down its curved sword, piercing through the lightly armored Druid's gut. At the same time, he entered into range and crossed his arms in front of him. Powered by anger, despair, and grim determination, he shouted "_**Assassinate**_!" swinging his glowing-red daggers forward like a pair of macabre scissors, neatly severing the grinning goblin's head from its shoulders. The resultant spray of blood was akin to an overflowing fountain.

Clancy stood there for a moment, panting desperately for air as the headless body tumbled to the side. Below him, Neria looked up in wonder. Before she blacked out from the blood loss, her only thought was about how safe she felt, under that cold gaze. Her HP was halved and dropping steadily, he realized.

Before Clancy could utter a word, Algar was upon her with several bloody gashes on his face and arms. "Cap, we have to get out of here _now_, she's not going to make it if we can't find a healer pronto!"

Once again, he was shaken out of a daze. He nodded and made to pick her up, but Algar was already a step ahead, taking her into a bridal carry. Clancy shook his head as if to ward away the haze on his mind and said, "Let's go," before pulling out the flute tucked into his belt. He was glad that he'd had the foresight to prepare the _Flute of Hippogryph Summoning_ before they left, just in case they needed a speedy getaway. Not wasting any time, Clancy brought the instrument to his mouth and blew, emitting a tone that echoed through the skies. Seconds later, the summoned hippogryph flew in from the distance, landing in a great cloud of dust in front of the two men.

They didn't mince words as Clancy shuffled onto the saddle, holding an arm out for Algar to climb up behind him. Shifting Neria in his arms, the dark-haired Bard pulled himself up and signaled for Clancy to fly. He was only mildly surprised that he instinctively knew how to ride a hippogryph, but decided that getting back to town was more important than idle musing.

Thankfully, with the flying mount, it took scarcely a minute to reach the bridge over the River Diligence and even less to cross it. Clancy was still in a strange haze and before he knew it, he had landed the great black beast in the middle of the main square of Londinium, amidst the many frightened and confused eyes of the Adventurers still lingering about.

For a moment, he was at a loss for words – how would they find a healer willing to help when everyone was still in panic? Clancy sat silently, thinking of the best plan for getting immediate medical attention for their fallen comrade. However, it was for naught when Algar merely leaped off the winged creature in the middle of the gathering crowd.

With Neria cradled in his arms and losing HP rapidly, he cried out, "Healer! We need a healer!"

The hushed murmuring of the crowd dissipated after that declaration. There were many players in varying degrees of armor and all in varying states of grief, but only one stepped forward, a woman in a bright white robe and red vest with matching silky white hair that seemed to shine in the ... moonlight?

They'd been gone that long… So much time had passed since they had arrived and Clancy hadn't even noticed how dark it was in his haste and alarm.

The new woman calmly walked forward and with a cool voice asked, "What's the diagnosis ?"

Out of habit, the ranger glanced at the woman's nameplate to ensure she _could _help.

**Hayley  
Race/Human  
Templar, Lv. 48**

"She was hurt bad in a fight against some monsters on the far side of the city, can you please help her?" Algar asked. The panic that he seemed to have reigned in earlier was now running wild and it practically screamed for release, his eyes already moistening for fear of what might happen to the girl in his arms.

Clancy, who stared at the bloodied robes of his companion from atop his mount felt regret and fear… Emotions not befitting of the façade of the leader he had to be. _'I have to be stronger… This must never happen again. Never again.'_

The woman named Hayley leaned forward as Algar carefully placed their unmoving companion on a nearby bench. Clancy dismounted from his hippogryph, allowing the beast to fly off. He didn't much care for the crowd, so he turned and shot a glare that sent the remaining Adventurers scurrying away. The Templar carefully stared at the injury before bringing her hands forward, opening up the skills window and moving down to click on the button that, for her, would be labelled **Heal **but for the other two was just empty air.

"Cap…"

The two of them had founded the Black Leaves together and had built it up to be something strong and recognised. But now… They were practically alone again, forced to start from the ground up for a second time, but now the stakes were higher.

Clancy forced his roiling emotions down and spoke coldly, to project the image that he knew the others relied upon, "…We need a tank and another damage dealer."

Algar nodded in agreement but said nothing, staring at the immobile figure of Neria whilst the Templar repeatedly used the same healing spell on her. With the only light being the occasional flash from the spell and the street lamp across the street, none of them noticed the small tear slowly rolling down the cheek of the Bard, who raged within, _'God damnit… This was my fault. If only I had been faster, I could have saved her.' _

The white-clad woman abruptly stood up and spoke to slender man in green, "Done… It was close, but my healing outlasted the bleed debuff. She'll be fine, but it's not a good idea to leave her out here in the cold. I'm afraid I don't know if these new bodies of ours have any weakness to infection or illness, but considering her racially weak constitution, it's better to be safe than sorry. Do you have a place to stay, Mr…?"

She could obviously see his character name and that he was the leader of the patient's guild, but it was more polite to ask, she felt.

"Clancy."

"Well, Mr. Clancy, I advise you take her to your Guild Hall and – with respect – I'd like to come and monitor her condition."

"I thought you said the healing was done?" Algar broke in, a certain rough tone entering his voice as his fingers clenched into a fist.

"Don't misunderstand, in terms of game mechanics, she has full HP, but she clearly hasn't awoken. I want to observe any correlation between old game mechanics and physical effects in this world."

She didn't leave much room for argument, this Hayley… She was suspicious, but she did save Neria, so her heart seemed to be in the right place. Clancy nodded and began to walk away, "Let's go."

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

**Guild Building**  
**Northern European Server**  
**Londinium**  
**City/No Monsters**  
**No PVP**  
**Entry Restrictions/None**  
**Exit Restrictions/None**

With a scoff that could be described as insulting, Hayley muttered "Impressive," and crossed her arms.

It was just three rooms. One of which was the sitting room, kitchen and dining room combined whilst the other two led off into bedrooms for male and female respectively. Everything was made of a simple material; they had chosen this style of room specifically for its inexpensive price. The only luxury was the dark green banner over the fireplace mantel with the black leaf of their guild sat resolutely in the centre.

The Bard and Assassin exchanged looks, the former chuckling quietly whilst the latter remained impassive. Clancy strode forward into the first of the two rooms, closing the door behind him. Neria was still being carried by Algar; he had been very insistent on carrying her to the building and refused to set her down during the process of buying the hall.

"What do you think he's doing?" asked Algar, feeling worried about the leader of his guild.

"Why are you asking me? Aren't you the one who knows him?"

As the door closed behind him, Clancy couldn't help but drop the façade and let the collected sadness, sorrow and weakness spill out. His body began to yell at him to get some sleep, exhausted from the stress of the day. He sighed and began to unequip his weapons and outer-armor, thankfully taking his mind off his inner weakness to investigate the room... In front of him was a pair of single beds, each with their own footlocker and bedside table. Candles were lit on each of the bedside tables, providing the only light for the room, meaning that they'd easily be enveloped by darkness when the candles were put out.

_'Those goblins... They were scary. Should I admit it? No, I faced the fear and we managed to escape to safety. It won't happen again. But Neria...' _

The Ranger let out an exasperated sigh, beginning the subconscious action of removing his inner clothing by hand to get ready for bed. The oddity of getting ready for bed in what still felt like an online fantasy game did not cross his mind; he was too tired to comprehend what it meant. Needless to say... Things were just getting started.

_'I made a mistake; I charged in alone and got injured. I let Neria get hurt even worse than I did... Never again. We need a full party and then we should regrow Black Leaves. But, one thing at a time - We need a tank and another damage dealer, preferably a mage.' _

Before he realized it, he was in the bed, mentally preparing himself for the next day and the challenges it would bring. There was a lot to do, and if they wanted to survive – to thrive in this world, they would have to be ready for anything.

* * *

**I do not own Log Horizon. **

**Edited by the amazing Mark Slender. **

**The remaining chapters of Black Leaves will be posted at intervals (Hopefully we'll get into the planned pattern) however this chapter should give you a good idea about the story and the characters; like a taster. Enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2 - Wrong Target

**Black Leaves**

**Chapter 2 - Wrong Target**

"_And failing to act, for fear of the risk, is no different than a living death. No matter what world you're in." _

— _Krusty, D.D.D._

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

"Orion! Time to wake up!"

Orion Smith slowly opened his eyes, blinded by the morning sunshine through the open window. He could hear the sounds of birds singing, winds whistling and cars cruising – the ambience of a typical morning in the suburbs around London. He didn't pay attention to the light, raising a hand to his head and taking a hold of a patch of his messy black hair, shaking the sleep from his mind.

_'It felt so real... The battle... The pain.'_

"Orion! Are you up, young man, or do I have to send your sister up there?" Came his mother's voice again, yelling from somewhere downstairs.

"Yeah mum! I'm awake," The British teen glanced over to his neat bedside table, taking a hold of his phone and clicking a button at the bottom, causing the screen to light up and a small message symbol to appear at the top next to the time and his alarm which was set for... Even as he registered it, his phone starting beeping softly in his hands - waking up before his alarm was nothing new.

As he sat there amidst the comfortable sights and sounds of the morning, he felt like curling up under the covers and forgetting about his imminent exams and all the pressure that came along with it, not to mention that horrific nightmare. But the threat of his mother restrained him and, with an exasperated sigh, he switched off the alarm, slid his phone back onto the table and climbed out of bed. Orion took a moment to glance down at his body, illuminated by the sunlight and quietly registering his pale hands and plain black pajamas.

"Breakfast is ready, Orion! Come on down before it gets cold!"

A small smile flickered across his face as he passed by his computer and the stack of games that all began with the same title: 'Elder Tale.' His gaze lingered for a moment on a picture off to the side of the monitor, placed to be constantly in his peripheral vision whenever he was using his computer. He saw himself in the photograph, clad in a black body warmer over a longer sleeved shirt. Next to him was a girl with long, midnight blue hair with a single bang hanging over the right side of her face. It was bleached strangely, an off-white color in stark contrast to the rest of her hair, often making her the butt of many jokes.

However, what surprised him still to this day was his face, wearing the biggest smile he had ever managed.

As Orion walked on, opening the door to his room and heading down the hallway stairs, he tried to think of her... but that dream still lingered in his mind. Pain... Fear… Death. It felt so real. Had it really all been a dream?

Orion tried, once more, to lead his thoughts away from the dream by thinking of the girl in the picture again and it worked for a moment. Deep in thought, he didn't notice that the sun had stopped shining through the windows and the birds had stopped singing. He opened the door to the kitchen and walked in only to freeze when the thick smell of iron hit him like a brick wall.

Instead of the clean, tiled kitchen with attached breakfast bar, he faced an empty concrete room with a single figure pitifully lying on the floor. Her hair, sprawled around her body, was stained with the dark red of their own blood, a morbid blossom. His eyes widened in shock when he recognized the body as his mother, with dead, pale skin and a blank, lifeless stare. Fear clawed deep into his very soul as he stared at the corpse of his mother in front of him, his body frozen in terror.

His heart was pounding against his ribcage, screaming for release, and yet his gaze narrowed – there was something wrong with this scene. He took a few tentative steps into the room, allowing the door to swing shut, and in that instant the entire room warped and changed before his eyes, now resembling a ruined city street with moss covering the dilapidated buildings and the cracked sidewalk. The setting sun shone an ominous orange light over the cityscape, dulling his perception until his focus was locked on the suddenly changed corpse.

"C-Clancy... H-help me..."

He gasped in alarm as he found himself reliving that scene. The scores of glowing goblin eyes stalked him from the shadows, waiting to drag him into their hell. His ears were full of the cawing of crows, feasting on the dead around him. And yet, he heard her voice clearly amidst the noise.

Neria lay in front of him with a clearly fatal wound in her torso. The carnage was unholy and she shouldn't have had the strength to cry out but she called for help heedless. Her head was facing him and he could see the crimson water of her life flowing from her mouth, bubbling with every word but she called out for him nonetheless. He could see the bloody wound in gruesome detail, there was no surviving that kind of mutilation and yet she still cried out for him to _save her_, to do _something_ - _anything!_

"C-Clancy... H-help me, please!"

But he couldn't move, he was nailed to the spot in fear. All around her, the terrible, grotesque forms of a horde of goblins began to descend from the shadowed alleyways. Their makeshift rusted, jagged and vicious weaponry promised a painful and bloody end.

They seemed to stare at him - through him - as they advanced upon the dying Neria. She still called for him to save her, but what could he do? He was just a teenager, barely older than she was! He didn't know how to save her, how to stop the coming slaughter. If he was stronger, he could have fought the monsters off. If he was faster, he could have taken her and fled to safety. If he was braver, he could have even _moved_.

The horde finally reached her and amidst their cries of glee, they pounced to seal her fate. Orion closed his eyes, not wanting to see what his inaction would cost. He braced himself for the sound of tearing flesh, but instead heard the swish of cloth and the sound of goblins crying out in pain.

When he opened his eyes, there stood a tall man in a green cloak, holding two long daggers dripping a thick black fluid. He heard the man mutter a word and he suddenly disappeared. A split-second later, several of the goblins collapsed to the ground, dying with barbed arrows shot through vital regions, but throwing the rest into a blood frenzy. Before they could even move, a volley of the same barbed arrows fired from behind him and Orion watched as only a single enemy survived the barrage. The last monster ran towards him, rusty machete raised high. As it closed the distance, he once again stood in awe as the hooded figure materialized behind it and brutally, gracefully cut it down with a combo strike to the armpit, neck and liver. As the lifeless corpse fell to the ground and its blackened blood soaked across the floor, Orion watched the man, his savior, freeze in place, like he hadn't noticed there was someone else here.

All of a sudden, everything was quiet. In his stunned silence, he looked at the stranger and the stranger looked back. The man's hood had been blown back from the speed of his technique and now Orion could see his jet black hair, cold, green eyes and pointed ears. It was like a fantasy version of him; similar enough in looks, but with sharper features and defined musculature – he was stronger, faster, braver, _better_. This stranger had done what he, Orion, could not do. Why couldn't he have been more like the man in front of him? He looked so familiar, as if he'd known this person from somewhere – his name was on the tip of his tongue, but Orion could only draw a blank. So he broke the silence and asked,

"Who are you...?"

But the man did not respond immediately. The world seemed to fade away in that instant and only Orion and the stranger remained. In this clarity, everything about the other man became pronounced. He hadn't sheathed his weapons, now stained with what was clearly not rust. His boots were still slick from the remains of that final monster. Orion realized with mounting horror that the man was _drenched_ in the foul blood of the goblins, from head to toe, and he seemed to not even care, as if this was how things should be. As if reading his thoughts, the cloaked figure coldly smiled and at that moment, Orion knew who he was looking at.

"**I am You**."

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

Clancy awoke with a start. He felt the cold sweat cascading off of his forehead and looked around frantically. He could smell what had to be freshly cooked breakfast, the only thing that pierced the veil of fear that descended upon the Elf as he glanced around the simple room.

This wasn't his room. Two single beds, each with their own footlocker... It was the same bed from his dream.

No... This was reality. He wasn't at home, waking to a new day from the shout of his mother and the nostalgic sounds of morning. No more leaving the house at seven to catch the bus into town, sitting next to his sister and listening to her ramble on about how she was going to beat him at everything but always saying _'I love you Bro,'_ when they parted ways. He'd never get to see her happy face, her tomboyish look; never again would he to awaken to the sound of his mother's voice or to the sight of her upbeat demeanor even on somber mornings.

He would never get to see _her_... With her bright eyes full of happiness - it felt like he was only happy when they were together. But when she left, people always said he became worse and kept away. That infection of happiness had left his system long ago and even now, when he thought about it, he still longed for that disease known as 'Optimism.'

He was interrupted from his dark musings by a loud noise from the other room, like someone was yelling. Remembering that he had others who were depending on him, he composed himself.

_'Clancy Ebonleaf doesn't wallow around like this. Clancy would get over it and move on with business... He'd walk out this room with a plan and an iron expression... But I'm not Clancy.'_

A stray tear managed to escape from his eye and he wiped it away quickly, taking in a deep breath and trying to collect himself. Mental barriers were erected and Orion closed his eyes in concentration. _'Not yet, anyway. I have to _become_ Clancy Ebonleaf, leader of Black Leaves and well-respected Ranger. I have to be the leader everyone needs. No more pitying myself, no more hesitation, and no more despair.' _

Clancy opened his eyes with grim determination, a steely gaze replacing that pitiful look filled with fear as he once more heard the yell from the next room.

"No! It can't be!"

_'Algar.' _The Ranger took a moment to ensure he was composed before reaching down to the end of his bed, pulling on his equipment and noting the roughness of the leather and the cold metal of his daggers. Even now, he was amazed at how real everything felt, it was hard to swallow that _this_ was reality now. Another yell came from the other room.

"Not again!"

This yell was followed by the sound of giggling and a drawn out sigh. Figuring that his old friend was up to something stupid again, in front of the girls no less, the Ranger stood up from the bed, schooling his expression into something Clancy Ebonleaf would wear. Quickly striding across the room, he opened the door into the main room and took a moment to examine the scene in front of him.

Algar was quietly weeping with his head in his hands and a steaming bowl of what looked like chicken soup on the table in front of him. Neria was sat at the table opposite him, giggling at his behavior whilst Hayley sat in the corner of the room, watching the scene with a dour expression. The latter turned her head as the door to the bedroom opened and gave Clancy a small smirk, "Morning, sleeping beauty."

Neria and Algar looked up at that, both turning towards Clancy and both cracking a smile, "Hey Cap, how'd ya sleep?"

"Well enough," Clancy lied before turning his attention to Neria, "Are you alright?"

Neria beamed, as if happy that he had remembered her, "I'm feeling fine! A little bit sore but the magic seems to have worked great. Thank you again for that, Hayley!"

The white-haired woman rolled her eyes in a practiced motion, apparently expecting the gesture, "As tempting as it was to watch you exsanguinate, even I have a moral code to live by..." She paused for a moment, fixing Neria with her typical cold gaze. Remarkably, it softened for a second as she added, "You're welcome."

It was gone as quickly as it appeared and the Templar immediately turned her head to look at Clancy who had managed to glide to the table. He picked up a spoon, ready to dig in to his own serving of breakfast placed at the head of the table. Chicken soup wasn't exactly the most typical of breakfast meals, but he didn't look to be the picky sort. Hayley held back on her question, biting her tongue as she watched the Ranger open his mouth to take the spoon in. She was looking forward to seeing the always calm and collected Ranger finally lose his cool at the taste of the soup. She felt a wicked little grin rise to her lips.

Clancy took a sip and was taken aback. Watery tomato. Almost like tomato soup, but without the zest that makes it enjoyable. The texture was unpleasant and the bits of 'chicken' just felt like chunks of old, squishy tomato. It happened to be rather salty, just to add insult to injury. Clancy frowned as he stifled a gag upon swallowing. He noticed Hayley's satisfied grin and imagined a pair of devilish horns and matching red tail, in amusing contrast to her otherwise cherubic appearance.

He ignored her and turned to Algar, who was looking at him with a sympathetic expression. Clancy fixed him with a gaze that wordlessly asked 'What the hell is this?'

The larger man grinned ruefully, "Sorry, Cap, but I've been trying all morning with my Chef skill." He gestured to the attached kitchenette, currently overflowing with all manner of delicious, mouthwatering entrées, "They may look good, but they all taste like the same nasty tomato shit. What you're eating there is the most basic Chef recipe, easiest thing to make. I tried my damndest to give it the _slightest_ amount of taste by putting a ton of salt in, but instead of being shit, now it's just salty shit! It's supposed to be a chicken stew, but it sure as hell doesn't taste like it! It's a travesty, that's what it is! How am I supposed to survive if I can't eat good food, huh?! I'm going to die!"

As Algar broke into another fit of weeping, Neria reached over to pat him on the shoulder before addressing Clancy, "I, er, hope you like tomato, Captain. It looks like that's all we'll be getting to eat from now on…" She looked downcast and as he looked into the soup in front of him, he understood why.

For the indefinite future, which could be years for all he knew, they would have to eat this. Every day for every meal, they would have to eat what tasted like soggy tomatoes. Even more than the initial shock of being transported to this world, this revelation disturbed him. He could barely stomach eating this gross meal in front of him, and this was the first he'd tasted of it – Algar was right, how on earth was he meant to eat this _every day_?

And yet, there was no choice. He looked around the table and found several empty bowls, presumably recently filled of this not-chicken soup. If they wanted to keep up their strength for whatever challenges this world would throw at them, it would be a necessary evil to eat this swill.

So Clancy took a deep breath before grabbing the entire bowl and lifting it to his face. In a feat of iron determination, he gulped down the entire bowl of stew, taking great care to transfer the broth from the bowl to his throat without touching his tongue as quickly as possible. The others looked on in awe.

When he was done, he slammed the bowl down with an audible clack and reached for a nearby glass of water. As he washed it down, he reflected that water remained the same, thankfully.

With his so-called breakfast finished, Clancy turned to address the next thing, or rather person, on his to-do list.

"Want to join?"

Everyone at the table blinked before realizing that the Elf had turned to address the white-clad Templar. She frowned and asked, "What?" Much to Clancy's pleasure, that smug smirk of hers had faltered when she realized who he was speaking to.

"Would you like to join the Black Leaves?" Clancy said slowly, clearly enunciating each word as if talking to a child. A petty form of payback, to be sure, but needless to say his tone of voice was rewarded with a scowl from the priestess.

"Hmph. Why should I?"

The Ranger and the Templar stared long and hard at one another before the former replied, "Because you don't have a reason not to."

Hayley laughed and regarded Clancy with an amused lilt in her voice, "_That's_ why? You slept in, so you're unaware, but The Lionheart Syndicate and Dignity are both recruiting lower-level players in the city into their ranks. They're offering power-leveling and crafted gear to people who join up, I've been pretty tempted, you see. Can you beat their offer?"

Clancy was silent, deep in thought. After about a minute of sitting under Hayley's frustratingly superior gaze, he reflected that maybe he wasn't very good at this recruitment stuff after all. No wonder he usually let Algar handle this sort of thing. So he said the only thing he could think of, "We have food."

The room was silent for a beat before all of the others laughed uproariously. Clancy grimaced.

Algar, good-spirited fellow that he is, pat his friend's shoulder, still chuckling, "Why don't you leave this one to me, Cap? You should just think about our next steps." At that, Clancy frowned harder and stalked off to the far end of the table, sulking at his defeat and vowing revenge against that devil Templar, somehow, someway.

Algar watched his friend go with an amused smile. The leader was never very good at being humiliated like that, even if it was just friendly banter amongst guildmates. He shook his head and turned to the pretty woman who would be their newest recruit. He fixed on his trademark smile and thought of the best way to approach this. He _would _get her to join or he'd eat his own hair. It'd probably taste better than the food, too.

"What the Captain _meant_ to say is that we have a lot to offer for a lower-levelled player like yourself. You're here talkin' about joining up with the likes of Marlec, leader of Dignity, who once logged on completely smashed and walked around the city, cussing out all the newbie healers for not learning how to heal in a raid properly. Doesn't sound very dignified to me! Do you really want to live and work under a guy like that?" At that, Hayley looked a bit sheepish, as if she had forgotten about that little escapade.

Seeing his strike hit home, the Bard continued, "Yeah, thought so. A lot of the major guilds around here are full of that sort of drama, not to mention the, uh, _relationships_ that form and crumble; messy stuff, that. Anyway, point is that the Black Leaves don't have any of that sort of bullshit – we're a straight and true family, the smallest of all the raid guilds, yet we've thrived. We treat our members equally, for we're all in this together, now more than ever, and right now, we'll especially need your talents, what with all that's happened. I'll tell you right now, Templars, Druids, and Exorcists are needed more than ever for their healing skills, since the fighting's real now, with real injuries." He watched the glint in her eyes as he said this and knew just how to finish this. "You won't get treated like you exist in those other guilds, with their hundreds of members and dozens of healers, you'll be invisible to the ones who've been there the longest, I guarantee you. You're already in with the leaders here, and you've already got a strong position as one of our only two key healers. You'll never find a truer group of mates on this island! So what do you say, will you join the Black Leaves?" He punctuated his statement with his hand held out, awaiting her return handshake.

With his little speech finished, Hayley looked pensive. She rested her cheek on her propped-up arm as she considered it all. Neria, the Druid who had been thoughtfully quiet until now, shyly spoke up, "Even if you don't join us, you saved my life, so it'd be wrong if I didn't pay you back somehow…" She fished about in her menu for a moment before looking at her savior with a shy smile, "so will you be my friend at least?" she asked, just as the chime for a friend request appeared in Hayley's peripheral vision.

The Templar scowled, "Oh, now that's just unfair, pulling that kind of trick. How am I supposed to say no to that? Did you practice this?" She received no response, but the glance and smirk the two shared told her everything she needed to know anyway. After another second, she sighed, "Fine. I'll join," reaching out to shake Algar's still waiting hand. The man grinned in victory and manipulated the menu to invite her to the guild. Ever since they had founded the Black Leaves, it'd always been him who recruited new players; he took pride in being the sort-of cool big brother to most of the guild members.

Once she received the confirmation that the white-clad Templar had joined the guild, Neria cheered and went over to give the other woman a hug, who looked mildly uncomfortable with the act. Algar couldn't shake his grin and turned to Clancy, "Looks like we've got another, eh, Cap?"

The Elven Ranger nodded, but otherwise showed no outward sign of happiness. Closing his menu and getting up, he abruptly spoke, "Good. Algar, come with me."

The other man stood up from the chair suddenly, pushing one of the bowls of soup to Neria before grabbing his halberd; which had apparently been resting under his chair.

"Where are you two going?" Neria asked even as Clancy strode towards the door that led out into the rest of the guild building with Algar close behind.

"Scouting."

And with that, they both disappeared behind the door with only a parting wave and slight shrug from Algar.

"Scouting, huh…?" muttered Hayley, "no, they're just getting into more trouble."

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

**Londinium- Safe Half**  
**Northern European Server**  
**Ulster Knight Sword Alliance/Londinium**  
**City/ No Monsters Present**  
**No PvP**  
**Entry Restrictions/ None**  
**Exit Restrictions/ None**

The streets of Londinium were covered in a verdant moss that stretched from the buildings and threatened to encroach on the streets. They never seemed to, whether due to the People of the Land keeping it in check, or maybe the game simply didn't let it and that carried on into this world. Either way, Adventurers sat wherever they could, on the sidewalks, in crumbling doorways, on old tables, even in some higher-story windows.

Some sat with their heads in their hands, silently whimpering about the situation but others had long since run out of tears to shed and simply sat quietly, absorbed in their thoughts. There were a few people moving about in this area but more prominently, there were several obvious recruitment parties from some of the major guilds. There was a group of men dressed in various shades of blue, ranging from a dark sapphire for the plate wearers to a vibrant turquoise for the mages. They all wore a tabard with the image of a great roaring lion, the instantly recognizable design of the Lionheart Syndicate. Easily the wealthiest guild on the island, the Syndicate had far and away more max-level crafters than any other guild and once held something of a monopoly on several key trade goods in the player marketplace.

Another group further down the street, composed entirely of Paladins, were wearing matching sets of plate, all in a bright white color. They all had the same black-white tabard draped over the heavy armor, evoking the likeness of the Union Jack, a reminder of home and the world they were taken from. They called themselves Dignity and tried to evoke this sense of a holy righteous order, but even their leader fell short of that lofty ideal. Clancy and Algar strode through them all with their cloaks drifting just off the rocky pavement. With their obviously high-level gear, matching colors, and confident gait, the two naturally drew attention.

_"Why do they look so high and mighty?" _

_"Haven't ya heard? That's Clancy Ebonleaf. Head of Black Leaves."_

_"That creepy guild with the roleplaying shtick? I bet they think this Apocalypse is a dream come true, the bastards."_

_"Yeah, that's the one... Think he's accepting recruits?"_

_"Dude, look at his eyes... Scary shit right there. Stay the hell away from him and his people."_

That was just one of many conversations that Algar managed to pick up as the two walked down one of the streets and he couldn't help but chuckle, despite the mean-spirited comments. _'Those guys have no idea. Wait until ya see real combat, laddies, then you'll have a similar look in your eyes.' _

They wandered around the city, watching some people wallow in their misery while others, braver souls, accepted the fact that they were here and tried to cope. They even witnessed a party of mid-level Adventurers, led by what looked like a max-level Paladin, venture into the Infested half, no doubt to experience just what this new world meant for them. They all wore the same off-white tabard, but it wasn't one that Clancy recognized, so they were probably part of a smaller guild. The Paladin leader of theirs looked competent and determined, but his weary, ragtag group did not match his bearing. Idly, Clancy wondered if he'd be able to recruit a tank like that before too long, they definitely needed one...

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

As the duo toured the city of Londinium, taking note of the general state of the other Adventurers and the movements of the other guilds, Clancy's mind drifted back to his dream last night. He didn't realize, but his eyebrows twitched to show when his thoughts brought him back to that uncomfortable experience. None of this was missed by the Bard beside him who kept glancing over at the Ranger. Algar wanted to say something, to help cheer his friend, but he couldn't think of the right words – how could he? For now, they were handling the transition well, but how long until one of them had a breakdown when the stress of this new reality finally hit them? Unlike the rest of the people in the city, the Black Leaves had gotten along with the changes remarkably well, but Algar worried for the time when that changed.

Eventually they found themselves on the edge of the 'Inner City' as some liked to call it, as the urban styled ruins were gradually replaced with more suburban trappings. Before them were rows upon rows of small residential streets and houses which seemed to get smaller as they went. While the Inner City held the important buildings for players, such as the Bank and Guild Hall, this side of Londinium had always been the marketplace for player and NPC trade. There were more active people in this area, some still wandered around with glazed eyes and blank expressions but others were actually talking to the Lander vendors, who offered their goods to the recovering Adventurers just like any other day. The People of the Land did not seem to be overly affected by the Transition compared to the Adventurers and most of their merchant stores and stalls were still open for business. Clancy mused that the more progressive Adventurers took some kind of courage from seeing the People of the Land still diligently working in this area and congregated here as well.

Outwardly, Clancy barely paid the people any mind, but he was actually paying very close attention to the business all around him. This was a good spot to judge the attitudes of the Adventurers in the city, and even here, he spotted what was clearly a band of recruiters from Warmaiden, a group of PvP-minded players who had this peculiar sense of honor in their battles. Clancy had never paid them much heed, as his style of combat was almost antithetic to what they called honor; after all, what use would honor have if you died because of it? He shook his head and continued on, picking up on a conversation between a Lander merchant and a fellow player; his large Elven ears, not merely for show, visibly twitched.

_"So you're saying I can buy this for just one gold coin?"_

_"Yes, sir! You seem to be in a spot of bother and I want to help out. We've had a good harvest this year, so it's the least I could do."_

_"Uhh... Wow, Thanks! I'll repay you some day, I promise."_

Clancy hadn't known that it was possible to beg or haggle with the NPC merchants, an interesting idea, to be certain. As he wondered, he spotted two girls who had eerily similar features turning toward their direction from a street corner. The first one had a set of purple leather armor with a strange series of straps across the front that seemed to serve no obvious purpose beyond the aesthetic. She appeared to use two curved swords as weaponry. The other girl had on a thick purple tabard over an otherwise cloth set of armor. The metallic gauntlets on her hands seemed to be the only thing resembling weapons on her person.

With the exception of their gear, the two girls were nearly identical. It didn't strike him as odd that two people would coordinate their appearances to that extent; many of the old Black Leaves regulars did the same. What was really eerie was the way they carried themselves, they seemed to take steps at exactly the same time with exactly the same distance between them. Along with their matching purple clothing, their identical bright violet eyes never looked at the same thing at the same time, like some sort of odd two-person lizard. To top it all off, they wore their long black hair in the same ponytailed style, but with each girl having their bangs cover a different eye. Taken altogether, the two looked like some kind of Siamese twin circus act, not that Clancy would voice that aloud.

They were sharing a whispered conversation, so Clancy focused on the two as he came to a full stop and soon enough he could see their names.

**Yama  
Race/Elf**  
**Monk, Lv. 45**

**Yami**  
**Race/Elf**  
**Swashbuckler, Lv. 45**

Not a second later, he could pick up the middle of their conversation.

_"-ure we shouldn't do something about them? You know they're going to start ganking people..."_

_"Everyone knows about them if they've kept an ear to the ground, Yama, they shouldn't be surprised."_

"_I hear they've just been mugging people for gold, but there's no one to stop them if they start getting worse ideas. What if they try to kill someone?"_

"_I'm sure they won't go that far. Despite what's happened, we're all civilized British citizens. No one would truly attempt murder, not when death isn't fully understood."_

_"You say that, but what about that Summoner earlier? Straight into the outskirts like she didn't even know what was waiting for her! There's no way she can take on a group of them by herself – and there are plenty of things they can do to her _without_ killing her..."_

_"... I don't like the sound of that – should we…?" _

"Seems to be our port of call, Cap," Algar muttered beside him, nudging him. A short glance from Clancy was enough of a hint for him to continue, "A powerful Summoner is an army in their own right if they play the class well enough. We want a full party, aye?"

"Hmph."

"Then we need a Summoner. This is the perfect opportunity, I'd say."

Clancy nodded, sparing a glance toward the twins still nearing them. He gave Algar a meaningful look, and the other man cracked his knuckles, approaching the two women with a grin. For times like this, Clancy was glad that he had the Wolf-Tail Bard to help him out.

"Hello there, ladies! It's a wonderful day, don't you think? Say, I've a proposition for you, if you've got a moment…"

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

**Londinium- Suburbs**  
**Northern European Server**  
**Ulster Knight Sword Alliance/Londinium**  
**City/ No Monsters Present**  
**Entry Restrictions/None**  
**Events/None Currently**

Compared to the city, the Outskirts, as it was commonly called, were silent, save for the occasional bird call. Outside of the 'Safe Zone' provided by the city proper, this area was once rife with PKers looking for an easy score. Indeed, many unofficial Guild vs. Guild battles took place here, often beginning with a simple argument over resources, or maybe one side was preying in the newbies of the other. Eventually, they exploded into full-blown warfare, making it a treacherous place to enter as an uninvolved party. However, since the Apocalypse, very few souls dared to venture far outside the safety of the city, despite the similar surroundings. Moss covered the walls of the buildings but grass had long overtaken the ancient asphalt, replacing the clacking sound of hurried footsteps on concrete with the rustling of grass on dirt.

As the sun grew late in the sky, bathing the scenery with the tint of sunset, a girl wearing an ashen black robe emblazoned with a skeletal dragon burst out of a nearby alleyway, clearly in a rush. Her pale hand was clutched tightly around a staff made from an even paler wood, marking her as one of the Caster classes. The smooth wood split in two near the top, forming into a double helix of dragon heads, holding a small black orb between their open maws at the very tip. A large onyx-black grimoire was attached to her waist with a leather harness, causing it to bounce against her hip every other hurried step.

She ran down the next alleyway over, long blonde hair whipping behind her. She was panting heavily, and had a desperate look in her eyes.

_'Please! Not now... I don't wanna die!' _

Glancing over her shoulder and spotting a trio rounding the corner after her, she quickened her pace, desperate to outrun them. From that single glance, she identified an Enchanter, a Guardian and a Swashbuckler: the Enchanter wielding a plain staff, the Guardian carrying a massive two-handed greatsword whilst the Swashbuckler held two cutlasses. It was a common party setup for ganks – the Enchanter had a lot of rooting and debuff skills to keep a target helpless and in place while the two-handed Guardian used their many stun and knockback strikes to prevent the target from defending. The Swashbuckler provided pressure from multiple angles thanks to their dual-wielded blades and used their many combos to cut down their prey. All in all, it was a deadly effective combination, making it very popular for gank squads.

"Come back 'ere! We ain't done with you yet, lassy!" The Guardian yelled out but the woman frowned and ignored him, sprinting down the street. There were so many small alleys in this place that it was easy to get lost or hit a dead end and right now, that would be the end of her. Even in a place like this which she clearly remembered from the other side of the monitor, she felt disorientated without the bird's eye view.

_'Shit, of course I'd screw up now of all times...' _She slowly came to a halt at the end of one of the alleys, with houses, ruined buildings, and rubble blocking any means of escape on all sides. Realizing her error, the girl's thoughts raced - maybe she could break into one of the houses and hide or set up a counter-

"Well well, looks like our rabbit is at the end of 'er hole, 'ey boys?"

She didn't need to turn to see but she did anyway, finding her pursuers standing at the entrance of the alleyway with sneers on all their faces, "We'll enjoy this, girl, just don't fight, and you'll enjoy it too."

If there was only one or _maybe _two of them, she could use a spell to escape but with the three of them, her chances were slim to none. The Enchanter would simply find a way to release himself and his friends or worse, pin her down before she could act. The only spells that could get her out of this had too long of a cast time – even if she started now, it was impossible to finish before they reached her.

She grimly realized that there was no way out of this, and she'd rather _die_ than surrender herself to these evil men. If there was anything that she learned during her admittedly young life, it was that death was not the end – it was only a transition. Indeed, living so close to a cemetery might have normally given people nightmares or a haunted feeling, but she was only ever truly at peace when striding between the stones that marked the final resting place for all people. She took a strange sense of solace and comfort from the harmony of it all.

The three in the alley had gotten closer while she mused so she reached back to pull forward the black hood of her robe, stylized with the likeness of a horned dragon's skull. With her face thus shadowed, she readied the spell under her breath, prepared for what might be the final moments of this life. She hadn't heard of anyone dying in this new world yet, so maybe she'd be the one to finally discover what happens.

She grinned morbidly as the Guardian approached, reaching out his hand to grab her shoulder. That would be the signal, she thought, when he touched her, she would begin.

_'You've really come far, right Aurora? Getting hurt for being yourself and now being targeted just for your looks. Not exactly how I wanted to go, but it doesn't look like I have much choice, huh?'_

However, she never felt the Guardian's metal gauntlet. Instead, she was interrupted from her thoughts when an unfamiliar voice yelled out from the mouth of the alley, "Oi! It ain't polite to mess with a lady like that, mate!"

The voice was rough and had a hint of a threat in it. She looked up to see her attackers with their weapons drawn facing the newcomer, who smiled and seemed pretty unconcerned with it all. The Swashbuckler, a tall, lanky Human fellow with a gruff voice, walked forward and addressed the intruder, "And it ain't polite to intrude on something that ain't your business, twat. Ed, trap this guy so I can cut that grin off his fucking face."

Before Ed the Enchanter could move, the newcomer, clad in a fancy green cloak, withdrew an elaborate polearm and flashed her a grin, "Don't worry, lassie, we'll get you out in a flash!" And he immediately swept the butt of his halberd into the Swashbuckler's unguarded midsection, throwing him aside with a grunt. The Swashbuckler growled, but before he could retaliate, he saw two purple blurs rushing towards him. He brought up one of his swords in a high guard and the other in low guard to deflect a crushing Monk blow and another Swashbuckler's double slash. He jumped backwards and glared at his two nearly identical opponents.

With the path to him clear, the Enchanter panicked, expecting the large Wolf-Tail to engage him in melee in a classic case of attacking the caster first. Instead, the man in the cloak jumped past him and engaged the Guardian with a bellowed war cry. Ed sighed in relief at not having to stare down the feral man face to face, and prepared his root spells to aid his party member. Before he could cast a spell, another man in a green cloak just _appeared_ in front of him, and it was all he could do to fend off the rapid dagger strikes that followed.

Seeing Clancy engaged with the caster, Algar grinned at the muscular Guardian, who had locked blades with him. The classic trio of Enchanter, Guardian, and Swashbuckler was very effective in gank situations, yes. However, they were a terrible setup against an equally sized and skilled team. The Enchanter was almost useless when pressured by melee, the Swashbuckler had no defense against root, stun, or slow skills, and without support, the Guardian could simply be whittled down last. He just had to make sure the Guardian, definitely the biggest threat of the three, focused on him while Clancy took out the squishy Enchanter. So he boasted, "Those three are with me, mate. We're from the Black Leaves! Just give it up and we won't have to hurt you too bad, got it?"

The Guardian growled before he replied, "You think you can win? You've already lost! Your mistake was engaging _me_ in _close combat_! **Heavy Anchor**!"

Algar's eyes widened when he found that he could no longer lift his feet – he was rooted! Heavy Anchor was a Guardian skill that immobilized both the user and the target, often used to scary effectiveness in PvP against squishier classes, provided the Guardian could get close. The Bard cursed his short-sightedness when he barely caught a brutal slash with his polearm. Before he could even breathe out, the monstrously large Guardian drew back his greatsword for a weighty thrust. Algar grimaced; at this range, he couldn't use his weapon properly! There was no way he could keep up this defense forever; even now, his HP was being steadily shaved down from his inferior position. He took openings to strike where he could, but without his mobility, he stood no chance against this juggernaut – but he wasn't alone in this fight, he had to rely on the others! "Captain!"

Clancy was dealing with the Enchanter handily. To his credit, Ed was doing an excellent job of surviving – Clancy found himself dealing with debuffs in parallel and root spells in series. Being in a gank squad centered around the idea of Player vs. Player combat, Ed the Enchanter had plenty of experience in delaying melee attackers. But it was just that, a stalling tactic. Clancy knew that he had already won once he managed to get in melee range. When the Enchanter's final **Astral Bind** wore off, Clancy pounced, intent on finally bringing the ganker to heel. He had been using a few basic ranged skills to help bring down his HP and keep up the pressure, but he finally got into melee range and heard a squeal of pain when he stabbed his left dagger through the Enchanter's blocking forearm, reaching what felt disturbingly like bone and bringing his HP into the red.

He poised himself to deliver the coup de grâce, but he was hit from the side and sent tumbling to the ground. As the Ranger scrambled to his knees, he heard the familiar gravel tone of the Swashbuckler, "That's enough of that, I think! Nice try, thinking to outnumber us like that, but did you really think two 45s could match up to a max level Swashbuckler?" Clancy grimaced as he noted the prone forms of Yama and Yami, who had their HP in the red. Briefly, he wondered how they were still alive – Did the Swashbuckler refuse to kill them? Were they stunned, somehow?

"That's right, scrub, you've lost! Your guild's pathetic little roleplaying shit doesn't fly in the real world! This isn't a fantasy game anymore, and the consequences are real. Only the strongest survive and the weak ones get eaten up or _run the fuck away_, but there's nowhere for _you_ to run!" With that said, he stepped forward, extending the blade of his sword toward Clancy's neck, "Hand it over: your money, your gear, your entire inventory, or I'll just carve it out of you myself!"

'_I did it again_,' Clancy thought, '_I messed up – if I had been faster, Yama and Yami wouldn't be hurt like that. They had trusted me to get them out of the fire, knowing they couldn't take on an enemy with that much of an advantage over them. I had to take down the caster _before_ they were defeated, the one weak point of the plan.'_ He wanted to break down again. His HP was still in the green, but the stakes were just as high as the last time. However, without the pain and shock of imminent death like last time, Clancy felt his head clear and he refused to give in to despair so quickly, _'This is a bad situation, but Clancy Ebonleaf does _not _give up. Not when his allies' lives are on the line. I have to get us out of this, there's _always _a third option!'_

With his head lowered, the Elf's eyes darted from left to right, searching for something, _anything_, to save them. Algar's HP was barely at 25%, Yama and Yami were even worse. His escape skills were on cooldown, and he couldn't take on a Swashbuckler with Enchanter support anyway. All around him, the prospects were grim. The walls of the alley were smooth, preventing any sort of aerial escape, and his enemies were between him and the exit. His eyes landed on the only other thing in this alley: that girl they were trying to save.

**Astra**  
**Race/Half-Alv**  
**Summoner, Lv. 90**

He met her gaze under that draconian hood and communicated wordlessly. She smiled brightly at him and whispered something that only he, with his Elvish hearing, picked up. He grinned darkly.

She slammed the butt of her staff on the ground, startling the others, and in a loud voice, she proclaimed, "**Arise, my Servants**!"

The very ground shook and an eerie green and black miasma emanated from the orb on her staff, filling the air with a nauseous stench. The sky seemed to grow dark as the fog blanketed the sky above the alley, bathing the scene with an otherworldly glow. From the earth arose the cries of the damned, begging for release from their eternal torment. The others in the alley looked around in varying states of shock or fear.

Still in a kneeling position, Clancy could see that the girl, Astra, who looked to be casting a rather lengthy spell, had chosen her getup well. The sickly green glow swirling around her coalesced into what looked like a pair of gaseous draconic wings, giving her the appearance of some great risen wyrm, with the skull on her hood as the centrepiece.

The Swashbuckler, finding himself losing control of the situation, panicked and drew backward, bumping into the Enchanter behind him, frozen in fear. Even the Guardian curbed his bloodrage to stare at the woman's display of unholy power.

She raised her staff in the air, letting the hellish cries reach a crescendo, and immediately, several pairs of skeletal hands burst from the ground, grabbing at the shins of her would-be attackers. The Enchanter screamed as he fell over, the strength of the undead summons dragging him to join their dread legions. Wary of befalling the same fate, the Swashbuckler screamed, slashing at the arms of the dead and scrambling away in fright, weapons held at the ready.

The hands that emerged from the earth clawed their way out, revealing a small army of skeletons, wielding all manner of rusted weaponry and wearing decaying metal armor. As they rose, the stench in the air tripled with the smell of death, the grave – of final human mortality. Their bones rattled together, as reanimated skeletal fingers and jaws moved of their own accord. There was naught but an evil green glow in their empty eyesockets, promising to return the living to where they belong.

Seeing its army rise, the great distorted dragon roared a command in an unearthly voice, "**Graveyard Walk**," and its minions obeyed. As one, they turned to the frantic Swashbuckler and began the march of the dead, intent on seeing him enter his grave.

The ganker froze in place, staring at the final destination of every mortal man and his own sealed fate. Their visage struck him to his core and he fell to his knees in terror, and yet the undead shambled forward, undaunted. As they overcame his crumpled form, the Swashbuckler stared into the abyss of death and he found it staring back with uncountable dead eyes.

The implacable Guardian, however, remained steadfast, readying for a charge toward his once-prey, "Get it together! She's just a bloody Summoner! Cut 'er down and she'll die like anyone else!"

In the split second before the Guardian moved, Clancy realized that the Summoner – no, the _Necromancer_ had finished casting, just in time to hear her shout, "Come to me, **Skeletal Hulk**!"

The fearless Guardian let out a massive roar when he charged, attempting to cleave the dark magician in twain before her spell took effect, but his footing was lost partway when the floor erupted from beneath him, scattering a cloud of smoke into the air. Somehow, he sensed what was coming and desperately leapt out of the way, but not in time to dodge a massive bony fist crashing into his unguarded flank, forcing him brutally to the ground.

Looking up with dread, he saw what had to be the largest skeleton he'd ever laid eyes on. Its hunched form was enormous, easily taller than any man. Its bones were thicker than his entire arm and it had an inhuman, misshapen skull with the same unearthly light in its eyes. It even seemed to breathe the same eerie green fog that surrounded them all. Its hands were balled into fists with a strength to crush iron, devastating weapons in their own right.

Grimly realizing that the battle had gone against them and that this behemoth would never let him retreat, the Guardian did the only thing he could do. He hefted his weighty sword onto his shoulder, cracked a humorless grin and _charged_.

For a worthless ganker, Clancy had to give him credit, that sort of thing took guts. He watched as the warrior called out his highest damaging attack in a fury, "**Onslaught**!" The mighty slab of metal seemed to roar through the air as it struck home on the Skeletal Hulk's upper arm, snapping the thick bone in half. The beast did not take this lightly, and as the Guardian entered the second stage of his skill, it roared in defiance, swinging its remaining arm toward its enemy. In a final climax, the two forces met, exploding in a cloud of dust.

Clancy found that he was holding his breath, and looked to the others. Algar was staring at the Summoner in the same spot that he had been, looking extremely uncomfortable, while the twins were huddled together and had apparently healed up in the confusion. To an extent, he understood their fear – this girl had just _killed _two, maybe three _actual people_. When this was a game, that was not a big a deal, even expected, but to his knowledge, no one had yet died since the Transition. He was afraid for what that meant for the deceased, but before he could continue that train of thought, he looked to the girl in the black robes to see her stalking toward the cloud of smoke.

She waved her staff and the cloud blew away in a gust of wind, revealing the Guardian, bloody and beaten with broken armor, kneeling on the ground with his chipped greatsword supporting him, still alive. He looked up at her hidden face and glared. Grunting, he pulled himself to his feet and held his sword aloft for one final showdown.

With the last vestiges of his strength, he let out one final battle cry and surged forward, much slower than his previous charges, intent on taking his foe with him.

But with otherworldly grace, the black-cloaked figure slid to the side of the strike and slipped behind the Guardian, placing the tip of her staff against his shoulder. With a cruel whisper, she spoke, "**Death Scythe**," and a bone white scythe head grew from the orb in her staff. Its keen edge glinted in front of his neck with a magic blade sharper than any known metal. With a breath and a stroke, she gave him his last rites.

'_Dust to Dust_,' thought Clancy, as the headless corpse tumbled to the ground in a growing puddle of blood.

His eyes were drawn back to the figure of the Necromancer when she turned his way and he briefly felt a pang of fear as the image of that unholy wyrm seared into his brain. Even if it wasn't directed at him, just being so near to that source of death and decay made him wary.

That feeling was utterly shattered when she pulled off her hood and gave them the biggest, cheesiest grin he had ever seen.

"Wow! That was awesome! Thanks for the help, you guys, you totally saved my ass! Uh, but I think I'm out of… Mana." And with that, the happiest Necromancer in the entire city fell face first onto the stone floor, unconscious.

Algar and the twins gathered around her prone form, speechless.

Clancy had only one thought:

'_How is she still smiling?'_


End file.
